Page 116 of Elf-ish

Instead, I dip the strawberry in the cream and use it to spread the whipped stuff over her sensitive folds. Then I take a final bite of the strawberry and swallow before climbing between her legs and devouring her, licking and lapping at the sweet mess I’ve made of her.

Angelica moans and squirms at the combination of cold cream and warm tongue, and I pin her thighs, keeping her open and wide.

When she finally bursts against my mouth, she cries out. “Oh, Jude.” Her voice is like a song, and I continue to feast, driving my tongue deeper, demanding a second serving from her.

She breaks again, hailing my name one more time, before I kiss her lower lips, and pull back.

With rapid strength she sits upright. “My turn.”

“Nope.” I catch her hand on my waistband. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”

However, I let her undress me, taking my time to kiss her in between her unbuttoning my shirt, popping the clasp on my slacks, and eventually, removing everything.

Pressing her to her back again, I climb over her, blanketing her for a second, while enjoying the taste of her mouth. Sticky cream and sweet strawberries mingle with the flavor of her on my tongue.

Eventually, I hold myself at her entrance, swiping my tip through where she’s hot and needy. I just want to feel that wetness for a moment. She’s so wet and warm, and too quickly, I’m sucked forward as if she’s pulling me inside her.

I freeze with just the tip wedged between her slick lower lips.

“Angelica?”

“Please,” she whispers, like she wants to feel me as much as I want to feel her. Raw and bare and real.

The color orange and the number nine and a girl who likes all foods. These are a few of her favorite things. She is my favorite person, like I told her only yesterday.

“Are you sure?” My dick is begging for entrance, but I won’t do anything without her permission. We already know each other’s health history, and she’s on the pill.

“I’m sure.”

Angelica slides her hand over my shoulder and down my arm, around my elbow until she catches my wrist. Then she tugs at my hand and links our fingers.

For a second, I just stare at where our fingers fold together, clasping one another. Like that hug she gave me weeks ago, I’m frozen. No . . . spellbound.

She lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles before settling our collective hands against her chest.

I slide into her with all the patience I can muster. My heart hammers. The palpitations she was concerned about earlier begin in earnest. Who knew flutterings were a real thing? While one part of me moves as slowly as I can, another space inside me races as if I’m skiing down a steep hill. A slippery slope right into love.

Ignoring the thought, I glide into her warmth, melting from both the snug fit and the raw heat, and my heart patters faster.

“Angelica,” I grit, knowing I can’t last at this pace. The lazy rhythm where I feel everything. Her and me and us joined together.

As I settle to the hilt, she slides one foot up over my calf and behind my knee, then up my hamstring to my ass. Every brush is another electrifying sensation. A prickle of heat like I’ve never felt before. The melting of my heart, which has frozen for too long.

I swipe back a loose hair stuck to her cheek and kiss her forehead, lingering there a second as I try to settle the tightening of my rib cage and the racing of my pulse.

Then Angelica tips up her hips, and I pull back, slow, purposeful, torturous, but awe-inspiring.

So fucking . . . real.

Glancing down at her, my soul screams Mine. I’m a fucking toy soldier desperate for this human to claim me as hers.

“Angelica,” I whisper.

“I’m right here, Jude.”

The words could mean anything. They shouldn’t sound like the something more I’ve been seeking this entire season.

Desperate to push away my fear that she doesn’t mean it—she isn’t mine to keep—I pick up the pace, taking her a little harder while still slow. A little deeper while still struggling with patience. The sound of us coming together is like a tabernacle choir of slapping skin on skin and moans with moans.